


Equilibrium II

by Grendels_Arm



Series: The Equilibrium Trilogy [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, smoking monkey, speaking monkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grendels_Arm/pseuds/Grendels_Arm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's WrestleMania 31 week and once again Dean Ambrose and William Regal meet each other. Will this end like their previous encounter? Or will there be a different outcome? Are both men able to finally be serious about their relationship? Or is everything still just be a nice little game? Find it out in this second part of "Equilibrium".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thumbtacks

**Author's Note:**

> This second part of "Equilibrium" starts on the Raw before WrestleMania 31 and it ends on the Monday after WrestleMania 31. I tried to add some realism, i.e. the few clips we've seen from WrestleMania week and the information we got from Axxess or else. Humphrey, the hunchbacked monkey will make an appearance and I have to credit Sir William Regal for it. It's his creation or - like he said - his sidekick. So I believe him! And I also raided Regal's Twitter account for everything he did during that week. But apart from that, everything else of course is just fantasy. Well, is it?

“How pathetic you are, old man,” William Regal heard a voice saying. It reached his ear from the dark side of this backstage corridor. And he knew this voice just too well. So he stopped.

The voice in a quite snarly tone had been coming from behind. But William didn't turn around. Instead he told the big container in front of him, “I can't recognize the difference, dear boy.”

“What d'ya mean?” the voice now asked him and it sounded slightly surprised. Then a body moved up towards him and out from the darkness Dean Ambrose made himself visible to the other man.

William first shot his legs a look, and then his eyes climbed upwards until they met the pair of icy blue staring back at him. Then he smiled.

“Well, dear boy,” he said, pausing for just a wink of a moment, then continued, “you act quite pathetic yourself, don't you? Hiding in the dark, observing me like some creepy stalker. I just had a rather innocent talk about your match. So, what's pathetic about that? Please tell me.”

“Oh, come on, you almost crept into him. And I bet you'd like to get into his pants for real,” Dean said and shot William a disgusted look, just to hide from his real feelings.

“And if so, what's that got to do with you? And why can't you just say 'hello' to me like every other normal human being? We haven't met for quite a while, my dear, have we?” William said, still smiling, and he seemed to be calm and pretty content with himself.

“Whatever,” was Dean's sudden and short answer. He seemed happy enough to confront the older man but clearly wasn't there for a longer conversation. So he quickly shrugged his shoulders and went to leave.

But Dean felt a hand upon this very shoulder after just a few steps he had done away from the other man. He didn't stop though but after just another few steps, William had made a more serious attempt to stop him. And this time it worked.

William had made it in front of the young man. He grabbed both of his shoulders again and didn't left room for speculation that he was indeed serious about not willing to let the young man continue his walk away. His eyes always spoke before he even opened his mouth. And the expression in William's face made Dean not trying to do any other foolish things like he already did.

“I was really looking forward to seeing you again, Dean,” William then said in a still calm but almost disappointed voice. “So, please tell me what I have done to you to deserve such childish behaviour from you.”

Initially Dean wasn't able to come around with a witty answer. It has always been the confrontation between William and himself that he had liked – these edgy emotions, the heat. He just couldn't stand this courteous behaviour. That had never been something that attracted Dean about the older man.

So, instead of an answer Dean shrugged again, this time to get rid of William's hands. And one step back brought some much needed space between them. Dean felt that whatever he wanted for himself with the confrontation, didn't work. And he looked away for a moment in desperate search for a place to leave to.

But he figured that William would just come back at him and demand an answer until he finally got one. So he tried to make up some explanation, so the older man hopefully would leave him alone.

“Ya know, that's just my own special way to get noticed, like ya might have walked past me without seeing me, so...” Dean said but it wasn't transmitted with full confidence. And William recognized that when Dean went through his hair with his right hand, keeping it in his neck for a while until he caught eye contact with the other man again.

“So, you actually _wanted_ to see me? You really waited for me?” William asked, somehow confident enough that he could have an actual conversation with the boy.

“Yeah, I mean... ya know...”, Dean started, in obvious desperate need for William to stop him. But William – like always – was so fucking patient, so he had to finish this stumbled sentence. “I might be, maybe I'm kinda, ya know... slightly nervous about this ref thingy later. Ya know, there's no way people would vote for anyone else but me. And I haven't done it for quite a while. So... was just hanging around here, tried to catch you and maybe get other thoughts into my head... like... kinda.”

William felt strangely amused but also touched at the same time. He might have been some fun seeing the boy struggling but he also felt for him because he seemed really concerned. So he thought that it could help to just tell him a few words of encouragement.

“I'm sure you'll be doing fine, Dean,” so he simply said but added after a quick thought, “The fans will love you – as always.”

“Yeah, that's my main concern, ya know?” the young man replied but couldn't hide a smile.

William knew where this was coming from. For how many times at FCW Dean had told him that he basically loved the hostile atmosphere around him when he made his way into the ring and throughout his matches? A truly born villain, who drew all his energy and passion from people who didn't like him – like a parasite depending on people foaming with rage. And William was pretty much able to feel him here. He couldn't stand a whole crowd cheering for him either. He just didn't know how to react properly – to this very day.

“You'll be doing fine anyway,” William said again in hope that double the saying would mean double the truth.

“Yeah, I guess. It just doesn't help that people won't boo anyone inside the ring. I mean, two babyfaces going one after another? What's this crap? And then it's me, who's basically only there to not getting too much attention. But anyway, I'll be fine. Like you said.”

As if doing _fine_ would get him anything in WWE, Dean thought but was already on his feet back to Gorilla Position. His “match” was about to start anytime soon.

“Cheers for the... um... nice words. But I've gotta go,” Dean muttered on his way back.

“Dean,” William called after him just a bit louder than his usual soft speaking. And the young man indeed turned around.

“Dean, if there is anything you want to talk about, you can talk to me. You know that, right? We could go having a drink after RAW if you got something you want to get out off your chest.” William said and he almost looked concerned again.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” Dean replied, “but I've already got someone to go with. So, thanks again. See ya.” 

– – – –

Later on William watched the match on the little TV screen in Gorilla Position. And, of course, Dean wasn't doing _fine_. He was doing great. Whatever his concerns might have been before – if there had been any – nothing of that was visible. William enjoyed watching him like he had enjoyed watching every single match of him.

 _WrestleMania_ week was always something special. And William just knew that he would get another chance. 

 

* * * *


	2. Dog Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein William Regal is a bit melancholic, watches some old matches, meets an old friend and has a late-night conversation about his luscious hair.

It had been one of those nights for William Regal. After RAW last night there had been a little backstage party that went on into the city and a small private club. Usually William wasn't much for something like that. But it was WrestleMania week, and there were so many guys he hadn't seen for a long time...

There had been a lot of fabulous excuses for him to actually staying until around two in the morning when he finally decided to make his way back to the hotel. Unsurprisingly he wasn't able to sleep. Besides the usual insomnia that hit him regularly, just too much had been going on in his mind – the last few hours, a few fragments of words he had shared with old friends and coll, some promises he made – a few of them he already couldn't remember anymore.

And from time to time the impression of Dean Ambrose crossed his mind as well. His first match as a referee in WWE; his strange behaviour backstage; William's own joy of meeting up with the boy again.

William had made it into his hotel room with high expectations for a few hours of good sleep after this quite exhausting evening and night. But after one hour of restless waiting, he got up from his bed again. He took his notebook from his bag and wrapped himself back up in the soft and warm duvet of his hotel bed.

Initially he just wanted to kill some time, watching a few old wrestling matches on YouTube that would finally lead to some sleep. But then he unintentionally stumbled upon one of Dean's matches as Jon Moxley back in the day.

Already the setting had been great: it looked like a school gym with less than fifty people gathering loosely around the ring. And knowing where both competitors were now, this set-up seemed even more surreal: Jon Moxley and Drake Younger – now referee Drake Wuertz in NXT – in a Dog Collar match for the IPW World Heavyweight Championship that belonged to Drake Younger before the match started.

Almost thirty minutes of blood, sweat and thumbtacks. It was quite a treat that William watched for three times, and then the finish for another couple times – just to see Dean winning a match and a title. It felt like an eternity now since Dean had won his last PPV in WWE. As far as William could remember that last time The Shield still existed.

After the umpteenth time of watching the finish of the match, William froze the picture right when Jon was looking into the camera, trash talking on Drake Younger,

“ _You can all suck my cock.”_

One thumbtack still attached to his right knee. His eyes were framed with a make-up of already dried blood, the rest of his face soaked in sweat. It was a picture of beauty.

– – – –

Three hours later William made his way to the lobby of the hotel. The overly nice receptionist – this big smile all over her face while she was talking – made it clear that he was just late for breakfast. William couldn't help but shot her an equally big smile – meant sarcastically, of course, but Americans don't get that anyway – than he made his way outside of this hotel that must belong to a German for sure.

But there was sun outside. And it was warm already. So William was just feeling a little better again when someone pushed him on his shoulder.

“Damn, you look terrible,” this someone said and William turned to him in anger. But his mood lightened when he recognized the certain someone.

“Nigel! What are you doing here?” William asked his fellow countryman Nigel McGuinness.

“Well, it's WrestleMania week. Did you hear about that?” Nigel asked back laughing.

“Barely,” was William's response but he added, “Do you have a bit of time for an old lad like me? I need to get some breakfast in the wild because this very hotel here refused to serve me the one I've already paid for.”

Nigel shot the hotel a disgusted look. Then turned his attention back to William.

“Yeah, they're notorious for closing breakfast service a couple minutes early. But you know what? Their breakfast is disgusting anyway. And I know a fabulous pub with great breakfast. They even make you a huge gluten-free one if you ask politely,” he said and was visibly enjoying himself when he saw the smile in the corners of William's eyes.

“Then it was probably the best that could have happened to me,” William said, paused for a second while he looked straight at Nigel, but then laid one hand of the other man's shoulder, “It's really great to meet you here in this jungle, Nigel.”

– – – –

Nigel didn't promise too much. The breakfast had been marvelous. William had been able to drive all the way from Los Angeles to San Francisco without stopping for food. But he certainly had to stop twice for other reasons. And one of them had been his numb body.

Driving alone for around five hours wasn't much of a pleasure. And for his body is was actually torture. For some reason William wasn't able to decide which music he should listen to during his road trip. First he thought a little jazz & blues combination could be fitting for a nice and pleasant trip down south.

But it had been a touch too nice and pleasant and consequences could have been worse if William hadn't been able to evade the huge hind that all of a sudden had emerged in front of his eyes. William wasn't even able to tell if he had suffered from microsleep or if the hind had been emerged by miracle. He still told himself that the latter could have been possible when he long arrived in his hotel in San Francisco. Because after the hind case he had decided to go for some good old English rock music, and that had been a far better decision.

Exhausted after the long trip, William had decided to go for an early dinner after a quick shower, and afterwards trying for an early sleep again. Maybe it worked this time.

But it just didn't happen. Once again he was lying in bed for over an hour and couldn't sleep. It was long dark outside and William now tried to follow the stars on their path from one side of the window to the other. And while he was doing that, all of a sudden his cell phone made itself felt. It vibrated on the bedside table and shot light onto the ceiling.

Glad of the distraction from trying to sleep, William reached for his phone and found a message.

_Did you get my pic? –_ it said.

William read the message again. Then he checked the number. But it didn't come up with a name. So he didn't knew the sender, he thought. What picture?

Now William set up and turned on the lamp on the wall behind him. And checked his phone again. There was indeed another message he had received a few hours ago. He must have missed it while he was checking in the hotel.

Now he opened the other message and it was indeed a picture. William looked at a peaceful but quite deserted landscape, and it had been coming with the message –  _Greetings from the waste land._

William knew that Dean would use his few days of rest before the narrow schedule of the four days of WrestleMania weekend for a few hiking tours to his beloved Nevada desert. And this picture somehow looked like this. But he still didn't knew this phone number.

So, William texted back –  _Got the picture. Is that you, Dean?_

He didn't have to wait long for the answer –  _Yeah. Had to get another phone number. Save it for later._

William smiled at this answer because he could imagine that Dean had just lost his phone somewhere – like the other two phones before and quite an amount of iPads and iPods. There must be a lot of people running around with listening to Hank Williams by now in this country.

_I'll save it. Will you send me other pictures later?_ – William wrote back, already enjoying the little chit-chat.

_Do you want me to send some?_ – the answer said. William initially had thought that Dean had intended that with his previous message. But now he was sure that he had just thought about the number. Nevertheless this last reply was just too good of a fit occasion to let it slip.

_You can send me whatever you like, my dear boy_ – William wrote and now waited impatiently for an answer.

So, when his phone vibrated again, William had already opened the message before it stopped. He read the message first –  _Good night from this dear boy._

Then he opened the picture and looked into the eyes of a desert iguana. All of a sudden William missed his own pets. But he liked the picture. This iguana was a true beauty, and he could only imagine that Dean might have thought about him when he took the picture.

Another message came in and William opened it –  _Met this guy today when I was about to head home. Thought it looked like you ;)_

_I can't see any similarities. It certainly doesn't have my luscious hair._ – William wrote back, then opened the picture from the iguana again just to look at it.

_No-one has got your luscious hair._ – was Dean's straight answer, and William thought that this wasn't a typical reply the boy would give. It actually didn't sound like he was making fun of him. It sounded like he actually meant it.

So, William just replied –  _Thank you_ .

_No word about my luscious hair?_ – was Dean's next message and it sounded more like him this time.

_It is luscious when it's not wet_ – William replied smiling while typing in the letters.

_It's not meant to be luscious when it's wet_ – Dean answered quickly like he had already typed it even before he got William's message.

_It certainly would give the wrong impression. I've got to sleep now, Dean. Thank you for the distraction from my insomnia. Sleep well._ – William now texted back because he really felt sleep coming now. What a wonderful feeling.

He then just waited for Dean's –  _Thank ya. You, too._ – and finally turned off the lights to met dreamland with a smile around his lips.

 

* * * *


	3. Deserted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean Ambrose maybe experiences some sort of fata morgana. Or maybe not.

Freedom. Such a simple word but really felt and experienced by only a few people in this world. Right now Dean Ambrose was one of that exclusively blessed elite. Just a few minutes ago he had reached the top of one of his favourite mountains in the Red Rock Canyon. It didn't have a name; it wasn't even a single mountain. Dean just called it his _favourite place on Earth_ and that was the most fitting name anyway, he thought.

At this time of day, early afternoon on an already hot spring day in Nevada, there was just the right amount of shadow falling upon a little ledge where he could stay for a while resting. Dean could still see the flickering skyscrapers of Las Vegas in the distance. But he was surrounded by rocks and stones, a few plants. And somehow he hoped for the return of this desert iguana he saw yesterday. Chances were little, of course. But this was the same place, almost the same time of the day – how about destiny?

While Dean was drinking from his bottle of water, he looked around for a moment. But there was no company. Then he closed his eyes and just listened – and there was nothing at all, except for the chirping of a few locusts. But right now this was the most beautiful music that Dean could imagine.

The peacefulness and quietness of the landscape together with the humdrum of this monotonous noise of the insects – it was just too good not to enjoy this a little too much and make the best out of it.

In this peacefulness and quietness the ever so restless Dean Ambrose kept his eyes closed and fell asleep.

– – – –

He didn't know how long he had been sleeping. But suddenly he felt that he wasn't alone anymore. There was company; there was no doubt about it. And the chirping of the locusts was not longer heard or felt. There was someone. And when Dean opened his eyes – carefully at first but at the end of this process his eyes were wide open and staring at something quite strange right in front of him.

A monkey of all creatures that crazed Earth was sitting right in front of him, smoking cigar in mouth; black Basque cap askew on his head; red bow tie; blue flanells. And if that hadn't been enough, Dean recognized a smirk upon his features before he even heard him say,

“Aye, boy, ya no' dead.” The monkey almost spit his cigar out together with his words.

And Dean was mildly disgusted as much as he was confused.

“What the hell are ya?” was the only question he could think of at the moment that he was actually able to ask this monkey in front of him. To say that he felt rather stupid while doing so, was quite the understatement.

“Who, if ya don't mind, dear”, the monkey said, his grin now quite obvious.

“Beg ya pardon?” Dean could only reply, and his mouth stayed open in a way that made him look rather foolish.

“Humphrey, that's m' name. 'M a breathing creature, ya know?” the monkey explained.

_More like a smoking creature_ , Dean thought, and for a moment he wasn't sure if he really just thought it or if these words accidentally slipped out of his mouth.

“Humphrey... fabulous,” Dean added quickly, just to be sure about the difference between thinking and saying something, “And you're a talking ape?”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Humphrey, the mildly disgusted monkey, shaking his head, and the cigar produced rather facinating smoke signals during this movement that – in the end – made the monkey's head almost invisible for a moment after he was done with his sign of disapproval. Then he continued: “You're not very clever, aren't ya? Do I look like an ape to you? Do I look like one of these rotten, barbaric gorillas or orangutans to you? Am a monkey, boy. And, yeah, obviously am talking. Ya shouldn't walk through this sun for that long, dear. 'S not good fo' ya.”

Dean rubbed his face very hard after he managed to close his mouth for once. A monkey. A  _talking_ monkey. A talking, _smoking_ monkey, who called himself Humphrey, hanging around in the desert of Nevada. That was something just a few days away from WrestleMania!

When Dean opened his eyes again and the monkey happened to still be there, he decided that it was far better for his own sanity to just accept his existence. He sighed the sigh of resignation.

“A'right, I guess I just ignore that ya jus' offended me. So, what the hell are ya doing here?” Dean said and tried to stay calm because a part of himself still wasn't able to believe what happened right now.

“Same as you, boy, same as you,” the monkey said. And one huge cigar smoke cloud later, “It's a beautiful landscape here, isn't it? Peaceful.” Then he looked around in awe a bit, gesturing dramatically with his free arm to underline his admiration for the rocks and stones.

Dean just couldn't believe it.

“You're here because you like the landscape? Seriously?” Dean said and didn't mind that now he sounded rather foolish as well.

“There is no need to repeat the obvious,” the monkey taught him quite instantly. Then he reached for a huge cigar out of his chest pocket and offered it his human counterpart, “Have a cigar, boy.”

“No, for Christ sake, I don't want a cigar! By the way, this smells terrible. What's innit? No, don't tell me! I don't want to know,” Dean almost yelled at the monkey, but gathered himself quite quickly, just to add, “I'm fucked, am I?”

“Quite possibly. But if ya relax... breath in... breath out... there might me some hope fo' ya.” Humphrey told Dean, now with a big grin around the cigar.

And Dean just looked at him now, thought about his words and wondered what the hell he was actually talking about. He couldn't make any sense out of it and quite frankly, he was tired of thinking about it any further. And all of a sudden he was physically tired again.

– – – –

It was more peaceful now than it had been ever before. He felt a warm breeze making its way through his hair and another warm feeling upon his face. Everything just had the right temperature to make him comfortably numb.

But suddenly, out from a far distance, there arrived something to his ear; a blurry noise that became more and more disturbing the louder it got. And at some point Dean realized that it was his cell phone. It called him. Or someone called him. And suddenly he woke up.

Still slightly drowsy Dean fumbled for his phone and answered the call with something that sounded more beast than human.

“ _Dean, is everything alright with you?”_ a voice from the other side of the line asked him.

“Ah, it's the old man again,” Dean answered, now looking around cautiously because he remembered the unexpected meeting he just had. But as it seemed he was all alone again.

“ _Thank you, boy, I already feel like an overworked drag queen these days. So I appreciate it that you always remind me,”_ now a rather amused sounding William Regal thanked the younger man for the ever so charming greeting. _“Now, how are you? You don't sound very well. Did something happen?”_

“Something happen... yeah...” Dean started to come to terms with an answer. But only continued when he was really sure that this monkey wasn't around anymore. “I just had a terrible dream. You wouldn't believe it. Kinda fucked me up, ya know?”

“ _So I woke you; I'm sorry. I thought you were hiking, and I had trouble to call you. So I thought you were indeed out in the desert,”_ William continued with trying to get an answer to what was wrong with Dean. Because the young man still sounded slightly out of his mind.

“I _am_ hiking. Well, right now I'm just sitting here hoping that this monkey won't come back,” Dean answered and sent a laugh afterwards. Now that he remembered about it again, he couldn't believe it that he actually tried to communicate with this ape.

“ _A monkey? In the desert? Tell me more, please,”_ William said, all curious now.

He had just been out walking through the streets of San Francisco for half an hour this morning, and after lunch had been staying inside his hotel room, watching old wrestling matches on YouTube, recommended them on Twitter for the young generation out there that had no idea about great wrestlers like Johnny Saint, Tony St Clair and Mark Rollerball Rocco. Some replies he got actually made him happy. So there were still people out there who knew and appreciated not only these guys but also his advices. But at some point he got bored and needed to talk to someone. And as it turned out Dean Ambrose was just the right distraction from the pale walls of his current accommodation.

“'T was just a dream, William. I don't really know why I had to dream that rubbish but there was this monkey, all dressed up, smoking cigar – would you believe it! – said he was called Humphrey, and I still don't know what he actually wanted from me. Like I said, just some crap you probably come across in your mind when you somehow fall asleep in the desert,” Dean tried to recall everything about this strange nightmare, when he heard a light chuckle out of his phone. “Yeah, I know, it's funny, but believe me, I'm still confused. This monkey had some rotten manners about him!”

“ _Yes, Humphrey can be a strange fellow sometimes,”_ William said, and Dean could sense the good mood the older man was into right now. _“But he likes you obviously. Otherwise he wouldn't make the long way out there to you into the desert, don't you think?”_

“I... I... what the hell you talkin' about?” Dean asked and with his stumbling and stuttering he just sounded like William himself when he used to call Dean's matches in FCW.

“ _Well, like I said, Humphrey is a little bit different. But we come along quite well. So I decided to make him my sidekick and I never regretted my decision. Good for you that he found you, dear boy,”_ William said and sounded still amused but serious at the same time.

For a moment Dean stared intently at his phone until he heard William asking if he was still there. Well, Dean wasn't entirely sure. This day became even stranger when he thought that he was speaking with a rationally thinking human being at last. It had to be the desert. It  _needed_ to be the desert.

“Alright, William, whatever. I mean... tell Humphrey that he shouldn't surprise me like that again – in case you see him... I mean...” Dean started talking into his phone again after he slightly cleared his mind and told himself that William had just been joking. “I mean, appreciate the distraction and all. Probably need to go home now.”

“ _You definitely should, Dean,”_ William agreed. _“It's late already. I would sleep much better if I knew you are safe back home and not out there in the desert when it's all dark.”_

Dean smiled to these words. They had been in a quite content state with each other in the last two days, he thought. And strangely enough that actually made Dean happy. What a difference to the last time they had met in that bar that went on to the beach and...

“I'm sorry, William,” Dean somehow said out of context, just known to himself what he was apologizing for.

“ _What about?”_ the other man consequently replied.

“Um... nothing. I was just... thinking, ya know?”

William didn't know but silently approved these words anyway.

“I'll go now, William. You should be here now, watching this sunset,” Dean started again. “Are we talking tomorrow evening?”

He listened to the agreement from the other side – and smiled again. Usually he would have waited for the sun to disappear below the horizon. But after he had finished his conversation with William Regal, Dean immediately got up, so he was able to reach his car when it still wasn't entirely dark out here. He just came to terms with himself that he had been fighting for no reason. There was change. He could smell it. It was this pure, sweet smell of a sandy desert at sunset.

And Dean Ambrose liked that smell.

Because somehow it smelled like freedom.

 

* * * *


	4. Turtlehead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean Ambrose and William Regal have another conversation.

The hot steaming water burnt beautifully on his sun tortured skin. Once again Dean Ambrose had been out in the desert for almost the whole day, this time with his mountain bike, hence for a much longer distance than yesterday. Now he enjoyed the shower that he more than deserved after such a hard but all around great trip.

Dean had always thought that the greatest reward of a hard and long mountain bike trip would be the view from the top of a mountain or this fast paced race downhill to come home again. But actually the one reward that was unbeatable had to be this very shower. He felt every little part of his body, every muscle, every sinew, every pore – this wonderful pain you only feel after a full body workout.

The view from the top of the Turtlehead Peak had been the reward for his eyes; the race downhill had been the reward for his heart; but this shower right now was the reward for his whole body. And while the hot water was pouring down his skin, time seemed to stand still.

For quite some time Dean was just standing in his shower cabin, eyes closed, head down, hands supported on the tiles in front of him. His big match at WrestleMania was just a few days away, so this was something really needed for him at the moment – clearing his mind from disturbing thoughts; feeling his muscles being alive.

Unfortunately – and that was indeed the ugly reverse side of the coin – he couldn't do this forever. The bad habit of water to wrinkle one human body's skin made it impossible to stay into this safe bubble for eternity. So, reality hit him hard when Dean finally stepped out of the shower cabin into a rather cold bathroom. Water had been just a little too hot, he thought and sighed deeply while he wrapped himself into a large, soft towel that still wasn't able to bring back the same amount of comfort that he had previously felt.

But this was the lazy part of the day, the last few lazy hours he was able to allow himself before he had to go to San Francisco for the WrestleMania circus. Just a few hours to relax. Just a few hours for himself. Just a few hours to maybe get his thoughts back that he somehow lost just a few minutes ago in the shower.

– – – –

Half an hour later Dean was sitting – or more like lying – in his hammock on the balcony of his apartment. His good friend Jack was standing right next to him on a little table. And his other friend Sunny was a little further away and just about to call it a day. Wouldn't take long for him to say goodbye at all to leave a more or less cold and dark environment. So, Dean raised his glass of whiskey to the sinking sun and took a mouthful.

For some reason he had also brought his cell phone out here but didn't have a look on it since he arrived back home. But then he remembered his rather strange conversation with William Regal yesterday, and of course himself almost begging for another chit-chat tonight. Well, it hadn't been begging for normal people. But for Dean himself it had felt that way. He wasn't even sure why he asked for it in the first place. But as strange as the conversation had been, he had enjoyed it.

What a difference really to the last time they'd met. What a difference. But then, it could run just the same. So Dean actually didn't want to make it as close as they had been. But still, he couldn't deny to himself that he missed the fucker. He always played with him. Dean wasn't sure if he did so because he just liked to play with him and he knew that he was dumb enough to fall for him every. Single. Time. Or if he really liked him – maybe a little too much – so he played with him, hurt Dean's feelings in the process and was still able to deny that he had all these feelings himself.

All of a sudden Dean's head was buzzing. Too many thoughts at a time. So he finally checked his phone.

Not very surprisingly he discovered three calls in absence. The first from around two hours ago – that probably was when Dean had just enjoyed his suicidal race downhill; then the second call – shortly after; and the last one just half an hour ago – when he had been standing inmidst the best reward of them all.

Was it fate that Dean hadn't heard even one of these calls?

Nonsense. That wasn't fate. Just accident. And Dean called himself stupid again because why did he overthought a simple phone call? At least he could ask him about advices for his WrestleMania match. Maybe he knew what outfit Luke Harper would wear, so he was finally able to pick a different one for himself.

And now he thought about a reason to call him back. Damn it! What was wrong with him?

That Humphrey monkey guy was a sorcerer for sure!

The very moment Humphrey made it back into Dean's mind, he took his friend Jack, downed the rest of it that was in the glass, and finally went back inside his apartment, closed the door to the balcony and threw himself on his bed.

Then he called William.

– – – –

“Um, yeah... hi... it's me, Dean,” the young man said when William finally answered his call. He'd tried about three times before and almost got concerned.

Now he heard some laughter from the other side. Many people in the distance. Very much seemed like the fucker was at a party or something.

“Um... well, if I bother ya, I'll call later... or we just meet Saturday somehow...” Dean tried hard to hide his disappointment when everything was quiet again on the other side.

“ _I'm sorry, Dean, what did you just say? I couldn't hear you,”_ William finally said something back. And Dean noticed that he was quite amused.

“I just... well, seems like you're busy. So, don't mind...” Dean repeated himself, ready to end the call before it even started. But William Regal didn't let that happen.

“ _Nonsense, dear boy. I promised you a call. So let's talk. How was your day?”_

No question about the missed calls? Now Dean was sure that William was hiding something from him. So of course Dean didn't answer his question. Instead he felt a bit angry without actually knowing why. But he wasn't able to hide it when he came back at William with a rather childish reply.

“Looks like you're having some fun right now. So I'd just bothering ya for real. Mean, I had to call ya four times until you got your phone. I really...” Dean couldn't continue because now William had enough.

“ _Dean, what's wrong with you?”_ William now asked in a more serious voice. _“I just told you that I like to talk. In fact, I also tried to call you before. You might have seen it on your phone as well. But I decided that I give you another hour to call me back. I have to admit that I was slightly concerned about you. So I watched a bit of “Spit the Dog” for distraction. I'm really glad that you called me back, Dean. So, tell me, what's wrong?”_

A cold shiver made its way around Dean's body, so the young man finally wrapped himself into his warm blanket. He felt rather stupid once again but still didn't really know why. Because there had been something to William's speech that he just didn't get.

“What's 'Spit the Dog'?” he consequently just asked.

“ _It's a quite funny English comedy show from the eighties. It's a ventriloquist, Bob Carolgees, and his puppet dog who isn't that well mannered, you know?”_ William explained.

“Um... so 'Spit the Dog' is like hitting people on the head with that title about what they're getting to see?” Dean speculated and heard a light chuckle from the other side of the line.

“ _Exactly. You should watch it if you don't know it. It's really good. One of my favourite shows,”_ William continued to speak in his amused sounding voice.

“So, you'd been watching this show when I called you? I mean, in your hotel room?” Dean asked again dispite already knowing the answer.

“ _Yes, I did. And now tell me something about your day. Have you been hiking again?”_ William now asked almost impatiently. But in fact he was curious.

And finally Dean gave in, also simply to forget about his own stupidity, thinking that William was at a party and kind of getting jealous about it. If he had thought about any longer, he would have found that he'd been jealous of a puppet dog. Fortunately enough for him, he already remembered his day in the mountains.

“No hiking today – mountain biking. Did the trail to the Turtlehead Peak in the Red Rocks. Actually, I left my car at the Visitor Center, then took the Scenic Drive, then the trail, the saddle was a little tricky, but the race back downhill has been great. You should do this, too. It's really a great trail. And you can walk, of course. The view from the peak is wonderful. Bit crowded sometimes – tourists, you know. But at the right time of year and day it's marvellous,” Dean told enthusiastically.

“ _I can only imagine,”_ William said when he had the chance again. _“Humphrey told me as well. But you can only feel and see it yourself.”_

“Hey, that's not funny,” Dean complained when he heard the name of the monkey but couldn't help but smile when he noticed William's chuckle from the other side.

“ _I'm sorry,”_ William said smiling.

“No, don't,” Dean replied. “Don't apologize. It actually is funny. I just...” Dean knew what to say. He basically felt all the words forming inside of his mouth. But all of a sudden all these words swirled around in his stomach and they didn't make sense anymore. Even worse his heart rate had increased enormously within the last couple of seconds and his mouth became dry.

“I just...” Dean tried again. Swallowed. And tried again. “I... I'll be in Sisco early morning tomorrow for the media. Fancy of meeting up maybe when I'm finished? Just a little hanging about before Mania?”

And William's answer came instantly.

“ _Well, I'd love to, Dean, but I already have a date with Robby. We'll go on a boat tour and afterwards get some lunch and relaxing on the bay. I don't know when we'll be fed up enough about that. So, it probably will get late. But you'll have much to do with the media and certainly would be glad enough about some rest in the afternoon and evening. An old chap like me would just get on your nerve, wouldn't I?”_ William asked the younger man. But Dean wasn't properly listening anymore.

“Yeah, alright... whatever,” he just said. “I mean, have fun. Ya know, I've got to sleep now. Early flight tomorrow. Cheers for the chat. See ya.”

William was still able to wish Dean a save flight but then their conversation came to an abrupt end. It left William wondering what just went on. Now that he recalled their little conversation, he found that Dean had been acting strange all the way through. Like he actively wanted to misunderstand the other man. Somehow William thought that this wasn't just the usual nervous behaviour before WrestleMania. There had to be something else about it. And he planned to solve this mystery before Mania.

It was some kind of a challenge – a game. And William Regal always loved to play with Dean Ambrose.

 

* * * *


	5. Golden Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein The Golden Boys have a trip to the Golden Gate bridge and Dean Ambrose makes a surprise visit.

_God, I hate this shit._

That was all. And William Regal looked completely confused.

“What is it, pal?” Robby Brookside asked the younger man and couldn't hide a smile that turned into a big grin when he watched his friend looking at his cell phone for numerous times now. Then he basically giggled, “Come on, tell me, please. I don't wish to die laughing, not knowing about the reason.”

He almost cried tears now when William finally looked at him. And showed him the display of his phone. Robby dried his eyes with one hand, then read what William had read before.

“That's from Dean Ambrose. And I have no idea what that's all about”, William said, now shaking his head in disbelief, leaning back again against his chair.

“Do you want to ask him?” Robby wanted to know while he handed William his phone back on the little table that separated both men. He didn't seem too enthusiastic anymore. And William seemed to notice this change in the mood of his friend.

“No, don't be afraid, Robby. I'm here with you. And whatever that was; he probably is just grumpy because he had to go up too early and wanted for me to join his Holy Grumpiness.” Now William let out a little giggle and smiled at Robby. “We should take a picture with the both of us looking all happy and show the world on Twitter. I'm sure somehow he'll notice, so he'll know that his strange message wasn't of any effect on me.”

“You're such a child, William, that's why I like you.” Robby said and got up to sat down on the opposite side next to his friend.

It happened that they could catch the Golden Gate Bridge as a fitting background for their selfie, so the commentary for the tweet basically wrote itself.

_The Golden Boys at The Golden Gate._

After William had sent the tweet, Robby retweeted it. Then he put his own phone away and decided to stay on William's side. He looked at his friend while he warmed his hands on his cup of coffee.

At first William didn't notice the stare that he got from his friend. Because he seemed thoughtful while he was looking into the distance from their boat. He looked over the bay of San Francisco and visibly enjoyed the warm, salty breeze out there.

“Hey, come back to me, my friend,” William somehow heard Robby say and turned back to him, so Robby added, “From all happy and giggly to out of this world within just a few seconds. I'm not sure if I should congratulate you.”

“I was just enjoying my time with you here”, William tried to come up with a rather honest sounding reply but failed horribly. Because it was his friend who smiled at him now.

“I know that you enjoy being here with me. Because we love each other.”

That was followed by an even bigger smile, framed with a huge one-armed hug around William's shoulder.

“But I know that you still think about Dean. Because you love him far more than you ever loved or will ever love me.” Robby basically whispered at his friend because there were quite a lot of other tourists sitting and standing around them on the boat. And you never know which of them are so-called journalists in search for some gossip story. And these days basically all human beings could call themselves journalist when he or she just blasts something out on Twitter. So discretion is the better part of valour.

But despite Robby sounded like he had just told his friend the most known thing in the whole universe, William shot him a look of surprise and light shock.

“How do you know... I mean... what makes you think that...” William tried to come to terms of what exactly he wanted to know from his friend. But finally he just made a statement, “I don't love him,” he basically just told himself and tried to believe it.

“Yeah, I know that you call it a game. But I know that the only reason why you play it is because you're afraid of the consequences,” Robby continued to whisper.

“No. The only reason why I play the game is because I like to play the game,” William now replied more confidently. And he added, “Don't make something rather simple too complicated because you don't understand, Robby.”

William sipped on his coffee, and for Robby's liking that lasted just long enough to make it clear that this wasn't a subject his friend desperately wanted to talk through. Quite the contrary. And Robby knew that because he had tried several times before, and every time these “discussions” were cut off by William abruptly and definitively. But this time Robby wouldn't let go because he wanted his friend to be happy.

Now it was on Robby to give the San Francisco bay a gaze and the wind permission to go through his hair.

“Listen, my friend, I know you like being miserable and appearing to be miserable. For some reason you like to tell everybody that you look like an overworked drag queen these days. And I guess you really feel this way. Kind of started to believe yourself. Kind of makes me wonder if you just like to get the attention of people assuring you that you just look as dashing as always. Or – another possibility – if that's your way of hoping that someone just tells you that all this moaning is nonsense. That you just have to stop playing and start living. So, what's it for you? What do you think?” Robby said. And with his last two questions he had turned back to William again.

And the younger man stared back at him. He wanted to be angry because initially he really thought that he liked being miserable. But deep down he knew that this wasn't the case. Finally he looked down into this little pond that was left of his coffee. Now he stared back at himself and this was kind of helpful for starting his own little mumbled monologue.

“I guess I'm just afraid. Afraid to lose something good that worked great for a couple of years and didn't came with responsibilities. It was fun. And I didn't have to care too much. But you get older and you're starting to be afraid that people just go on with their lives while you stay where you are. You are afraid of people could be fed up with your game and plain refuse to play to your rules anymore because they better like their own rules. And they want to play with someone else...”

William noticed that he had raised his voice just a little too much. He rubbed his forehead with his left hand and sighed deeply.

“I'm really a miserable, overworked drag queen, Robby, I really am,” he then came up with that sounded like an epitaph. Then he showed his friend a weary smile as some kind of assurance that he meant what he just said.

“No, my friend, you are just afraid while there's no reason to be afraid. And there is no reason to be miserable. Because, yes, of course, you are as dashing as always,” Robby told William, again with his arm around his shoulder. And somehow these words widened William's smile to make it look more like him.

“Hey, maybe you are just tired of your own game. Maybe you are the one who doesn't want to play anymore,” Robby then continued to speculate, maybe to finally hit that one point that could make sense to his friend.

“Or I just want to play another game,” William replied, “As in, lets just go into the first restaurant that we see when we're back from this trip and lets choose the first lunch we see on the menu.”

Robby sighed but since his friend was in far better mood now than a few moments ago, he patted his shoulder generously and decided that he would try to come back to this subject at the very – still unknown – restaurant.

“Alright. Lets do this. But I know already that you will lose with all your food allergies you have,” Robby then told his friend.

“Good point,” William admitted. “So, lets just have another photograph before I'll certainly have to die because of my own enthusiasm.”

William then turned around to have a look at the possible background for the picture and grinned all over his face when he noticed the island of Alcatraz.

“That's something, isn't it?” he asked Robby and his friend already knew that he would be more successful at his second attempt.

_Alcatraz with his Lordship_ , Robby wrote as a description after a kind tourist took their photo. Then he heard William giggling over writing his own tweet. And moments later the same picture appeared on Robby's display, but now read:

_Liberace and Old Mother Riley._

“Do you think people will get it which is which?” now Robby giggled to join in his friend's childish behaviour.

“I'm not sure I do,” William said and now could barely hold on himself anymore. Through tears of laughter he ordered a little salad from the young waitress who had just made her way to their table to ask if everything was fine.

Well, everything really was fine. Because for some reason Robby's words only now started to sink into William's mind. He knew that his friend was right. There was no reason to be afraid – at least not about what could be with Dean Ambrose. But there was reason to be afraid about lunch. So, a nice little salad now perhaps would save him from starvation if they indeed had to choose a restaurant with too much of inappropriate food for him to at least have a tiny chance to select one he was actually able to eat.

There wasn't anything wrong about cheating while playing a game. Never was and never will be.

– – – –

It was late when William Regal and Robby Brookside made it back to their hotel, the hotel where all WWE talent spent their nights during the long  _WrestleMania_ weekend. Not only did they have lunch after the boat trip but also an interesting city tour by bus. Then they just walked for a while and took the rest of their way back to their night's domicile by taxi.

Both men were exhausted when they entered the hotel lobby and got their cards. Their respective rooms happened to be on the same floor but in opposite directions. So, they separated after they left the elevator and William Regal went to his room.

He somehow managed to open his door with the card, left his jacket on the wardrobe right at the door and went straight into the bathroom to wash his hands and got some cold water into his face. Probably it wasn't the best strategy to try to refresh himself. Maybe it would be better to just straight head to bed, using his current weariness to sleep at least for a few hours to once again avoid insomnia. But the cold water felt good, so William let the good feeling happen.

But then, when he went to the main hotel room, his heart almost stopped beating the moment he looked towards his bed. He'd really liked to scream but no sound left his mouth. Instead his eyes were as wide as possible and his mouth was open. His whole body refused to move in any kind of way.

And Dean Ambrose who laid onto this very bed almost completely nude, grinned widely, opened his arms even wider and introduced himself with his barking, whiskey-smelling voice:

“Ta-daaa!”

It was a splendid sight for sure. But initially William Regal was unable to notice it. He had been tired, and he just didn't like experiencing such surprises when he was tired.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here? And how did you get in here?” were his first words when he got back both his voice and composure.

“Am gloriously drunk and got no clue,” Dean explained, grinning from one ear to the other.

“That's your answer for everything, isn't it?” William replied, now shaking his head in sheer disbelief. But he couldn't hide that fucking little smile that had started to grace his lips.

“It always works,” Dean said, and he didn't sound drunk at all. “Come, sit down,” he continued, patting his next next to himself on the bed sheets, “you look tired.”

“I actually am. And before I was shocked to death by you, I wanted to go to bed early, trying to use this tiredness against insomnia,” William said and sat down on his bed, but with a healthy distance to the younger man. “So, maybe you can tell me now what are you doing here, why are you nude and what exactly this message from this morning was all about.”

Now Dean was the surprised one.

“What message?” he wanted to know.

“Oh, come on, please. Don't tell me you don't know anymore,” William said and just looked into the confused eyes of Dean Ambrose. With a heavy sigh he found his phone, searched for the message and held it up, so Dean was able to read from the display.

“God, I hate this shit...” he read, then visibly tried to remember. “I have no idea. Did I really send that?”

In an attempt to help this cause, the younger man reached behind himself for his jeans to get his own cell phone. On this occasion William was quite relieved when he noticed that Dean still wore some boxer shorts. But he couldn't think about this any longer when he was re-invited to Dean's thinking process.

“Ah, there, here it is. I really sent you this. But I've got no clue what...” Dean began to mumble but all of a sudden hit himself with a flat hand on his forehead. “That's it! Got it, man! You know, like, there was this guy, my first interview today. I'd just left the airport – like God knows how – and set my feet into the Axxess area, when some guy shoved me in front of a camera. I tried to look awake with all my mighty power. And then this guy introduced me as Seth Rollins. I was like all confused until I realized that he was just some git who thought was funny. So I just left him and tried to get awake. I can remember that I've typed these words in here but I didn't want to send them. Why didn't you text me back? You must have been confused.”

“I was, Dean, believe me. But Robby told me I should just ask you later today. And he was right after all,” William said.

Then he had a longer look into Dean's eyes. Dean didn't say anything. He just looked back. It was one of these moments that went a little too long to lead to something else. But William was glad about it. He finally smiled at the younger man.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” he asked, “You could tell me which other horrible things happened to you today. You know, getting all these awful things out of your mind. So you are able to concentrate on your Mania match.”

“Mmh, I'm not sure if you noticed but I'm almost naked, so I already chose to stay here for tonight,” Dean said cheeky and leaned forward towards the older man, so that all of a sudden this moment that didn't happen before, happened now.

William closed the remaining gap between them and kissed Dean softly upon his lips.

“You don't taste much like alcohol,” William said when both men had parted again.

“Well, not yet,” Dean said and produced a rather large bottle of whiskey from underneath the bed. Then he grinned again.

“You know that I don't drink, Dean,” William told him but that didn't seem to change the young man's mood. Quite the contrary.

“Of course, I know. That's why I want to stay here. I drink and tell you all the awful stories, and afterwards you hold my head while I'm singing a last hurray on the whiskey over the toilette. Sounds like a great plan, huh?”

“Marvellous, indeed,” William said. But again he just couldn't help himself but smile.

 

* * * *


	6. Half Moon Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean Ambrose and William Regal wake up at different times.

Something just hit him. And now it was lying right on his face. Somewhere in his blurry consciousness he knew that he was in the bed of some hotel room in San Francisco. So this wasn't home. And it was impossible that any of his lizards had made all the way to his bedroom to scare him to death.

William blinked slowly. Still only half awake he barely noticed that dawn just about started to shove the sun above the horizon. So the room was already bathed in some kind of a diffuse light that corresponded perfectly with the state William was in right now.

Now knowing that there wasn't any bright light around him, he opened his eyes completely to dare a glance beside him. He still hadn't moved apart from his eyes that now looked into the most peacefully looking sleeping face that he'd ever seen.

Mouth half open, tongue just pointing out of it, eyes closed and a huge tangle of wild locks; slow breathing and this arm that still covered William's face, all clearly belonged to Dean Ambrose.

His memory soon connected all these little pieces from last night back together. Dean had been talking his way through almost the entire bottle of whiskey until William had it taken away from him. The protest had been quite sluggish – Dean had been already too drunk to be able to fight back wholeheartedly. And maybe he wanted to actually save William from helping him out in the bathroom.

So Dean in his rather drowsy state had been still able to do the basics alone before he even made it to bed on his own. When William had joined him a few minutes later, the boy was already sleeping on the very far side of the double bed. But as it has been almost always the case, the next morning his body had made it right next to William, while some body parts were already all over the older man. Like Dean's arm had been all over his face.

Now William had gently taken the arm and laid it slowly beside him. Dean didn't notice at all – he was still peacefully sleeping that earned him a soft smile from the older man. Even if it wasn't his own achievement, William still admired him for being able to have such a deep sleep. Maybe he was pretty content with himself, so he didn't have to think through everything that went through his head at night. Maybe it was just the alcohol in his system that kept him silent in such a remarkable way.

After William had freed himself from the close tangle, he got up carefully and went into the bathroom. And a rather quick shower later he wrapped himself into one of the hotel's quite exquisite bathrobes and went back into the now slightly brighter bedroom. He noticed that Dean had turned onto his front now but he still slept untroubled. In his movement he had taken the blanket with him, so his back was now almost entirely uncovered. Quite a decent sight, William found when he realized that he was watching now for quite a while.

He finally went closer and sat down on the bedside. Eyes moving from Dean's shoulder blades down his spine to the point where his butt disappeared under the blanket.

William just couldn't resist but now used his left hand to smoothly and slowly let it trace the same route his eyes had just trailed down. But his wicked hand didn't stop where his eyes weren't able to move on before. His fingers gently took the blanket and removed it from the boy's butt.

Covered with the blanket before, his skin was even warmer there than his back had been, William discovered when his hand now gently stroked Dean's butt. With all that gloomy dawning light around him and Dean Ambrose spread out right beside him – being so silent and hardly moving like he usually never was – it somehow felt like a dream to him. A dream in which his hands just weren't able to stop tracing irregular lines across the boy's whole body.

But then Dean woke up from his own dream. All of a sudden he moved a little bit. He stayed on his front side but stretched his arms and legs. And William took his hand from Dean's warm skin to make it rest in his own lap. He didn't feel guilty or something but maybe it could be appear to Dean as a strange thing being touched like this from him while he had been sleeping...

Maybe he felt a little guilty and also weird all of a sudden. While Dean was still audibly trying to wake up, William got up from the bedside and moved back towards the big window of his hotel room. Curtains were gently moving courtesy of the tipped window. And the view onto the streets of San Francisco was remarkable – if William had seen it. In reality he simply enjoyed the still fresh morning breeze for a little flashback to the last few days.

When he had been together with Dean Ambrose or even when they had just been talking for more than five minutes, hell had been always raising rather sooner than later. And now he wasn't able anymore to stand an argument that lasted for five seconds. Maybe he was just thinking about the boy's recent booking in WWE shows. It so much reminded him about his own booking a couple of years ago that he felt almost guilty that he once said these fateful words about the potential of the boy,

_Dean Ambrose will be everybody's perfect opponent for the next ten years._

He certainly wasn't meaning it the way WWE stretched it right now. Like William had been the punching bag in so many matches because he had the gift of making his opponents look like the strongest possible, now Dean Ambrose of all people was his unlikely successor in this special graft. William had always thought that Dean would succeed him in being the great villain he was. But naturally WWE saw the other side of the coin and just started to use it to the advantage of some other young and promising guys.

Yes, William Regal definitely felt guilty.

Deep down he always wanted for Dean Ambrose to be happy. But the young man was obsessed with him. Wanted to be like him, wanted to be acknowledged by him as his successor. Dean Ambrose had always been a fool. Always with wrong targets in mind. Always missing the real opportunities in life. And everything wrong in Dean Ambrose's life somehow fell down on him, William Regal.

He had always tried to shove the young man away from him. He had hoped that this somehow would make him realize what his real targets are – make him notice that his targets were lying in the future, not in the past. William Regal for quite a few years now thought that he was the past. But maybe for this young man right there he was the future? Could that be possible? Deep down William was hoping that but right beside this little hope there was a big fear that exactly this could be the case.

Like this one stupid coin that somehow had been lying on its false side while you were thinking that it was the right one.

Or vice versa.

To make it simple, William Regal just didn't know anymore what was the right thing to do and the wrong thing to leave. Both possibilities were hanging right above his head like Damocles' sword – one of it would kill him; the other one most likely too. Catching the right decision was impossible, so should he just go for the one that made both of them happy? Or just one of them successful?

“Hey, ya growing roots or what?” William all of a sudden heard right behind him. Thrown out of his thoughts he turned around and looked straight into the blue eyes of Dean Ambrose. He very much looked like a man just woken up with a bit of a hangover.

“Yes, maybe I should. Then I needn't go to the Hall Of Fame tonight,” William said smiling at the young man, trying to hide his recent struggles and thoughts from him.

And that strategy had always worked. Dean never had been a guy too concerned about anything. He went out there and did what thought was the best for him. He usually made bad and stupid decisions but he never regretted them when he realized the targets he went for weren't worth it and weren't working. He just moved on the very next day and tried again. Always leaving chaos and destruction right behind him for another intact and accurate piece of beauty he could set fire to.

And right now William Regal felt very much like a destroyed piece that Dean Ambrose would leave behind very soon. So he widened his smile just a little bit, so Dean wouldn't notice.

But for some strange reason, the stupid boy kept looking at him like he had just seen something he didn't like. He went closer and laid one hand on William's shoulder. He was never able to stand a look for longer than two seconds – at best – but this one time right now it was William who looked away.

“'S something wrong? You've got some sadness in your eyes I don't know from ya,” Dean almost whispered after a moment.

“It's nothing really. I've maybe just watched too many of the old classics, you know. Makes me a bit sentimental and nostalgic, especially around WrestleMania,” William said but wondered what it was with the young man that all of a sudden he looked concerned about him when he should be concerned about his WrestleMania match. “You see something that isn't there. Instead you should prepare for later tonight, for your fans.”

“Nonsense. Don't need preparation. Am always ready,” Dean now grinned but for some reason turned back serious again in an instant – or rather playful when he now put both his hands around William's waist and himself even closer to the other man.

“By the way,” he then told him knowingly, “as far as I'm concerned we've got lot of time until my Axxess and your Hall Of Fame. So, what makes us from getting out of here too early? What about going back to bed and having a little fun?”

William tried to back out a little bit but he was already standing right at the wall, so there was no way back – only forward. All of a sudden he was only able to see Dean spread out on the bed, lying on his front and his wicked hand tracing hidden lines all over his warm body. William felt that his breathing had increased and one single drop of sweat started to make its way from his hairline down to his temples.

“You should have fun with someone your age, Dean,” William again tried to make the younger man frustrated about him. So he would finally leave him alone.

But Dean just didn't think about that. Instead he was just even more occupied by the mystery of what was wrong with the man who had seemed to enjoy their conversations over the past few days but now acted like he didn't enjoy his company at all.

“So, why d'ya think I came here yesterday? To you, old man. Thought you would enjoy my company. And I think I was right. What changed since yesterday?” Dean wanted to know and to William's surprise the boy didn't seem to be frustrated at all. Maybe a little disappointed.

“Maybe you came here because you know about my insomnia. So, I'm awake till late at night for you to whine about your interviews. No-one else with a brain would actively let that happen but me. So your choice actually was an easy one, I guess,” William answered but sounded slightly amused. Then he let his wicked hand ruffle Dean's hair, “You wouldn't have much fun anyway, believe me.”

Dean now opened William's bathrobe and let both of his own hands make their way on the bare skin of the other man's body. Their cocks slightly touched when the young man looked the older into his eyes again.

“Well, I know that you had a bit of fun earlier today. So I can't see why you don't want it now,” Dean said and again he kept his look straight onto William's.

“You...” William was about to say but Dean interrupted him.

“Did you think I wouldn't feel it?” he asked, then pressed his body against him and whispered into William's ear, “I want to feel that again, and it'll definitely more fun when we're doing it together, right?”

“Why are you _doing_ this, Dean?” William whispered back and his voice sounded weak and broken.

“And why have you done _this_ , William?” Dean replied and moved back just a little bit, so both men looked into each other's eyes again.

Both knew the answer to both of these questions. But they didn't express them.

Instead William now moved forward, wicked hands grabbing these sweet cheeks of Dean's ass, while lips crashed into lips for a breathless kiss. William was just tired of talking. He didn't want to hear any questions anymore, not from Dean and not from inside of his own head.

Both men somehow made it back onto the bed, William lost the bathrobe in the process and Dean presented himself the same way he did before, giving the other man full access to continue where he stopped around half an hour ago.

And quite naturally William found that it was so much more fun this way. He didn't need to stop now. His wicked hands were now able to travel to every little hidden place on Dean's body. His wicked hands were now able to go on an exciting adventure tour to Dean's ass.

William had laid down right next to the younger man. And Dean had turn his face towards him, so they shared sloppy kisses when William's hand was just stroking Dean's inner thighs; and these kisses intensified when William gave himself a little foretaste on what's to come.

Everything was so much better without thinking. What are plans for? What are consequences? Sometimes it was just better to enjoy the moment and let go.

It didn't take long for William to change position on top of Dean. Their foreplay actually had lasted for five days. And that was long enough.

To be one again felt naturally. It felt damn fucking right. But it was still overwhelming for William. Every single time it was the moment he entered Dean and just dived in slowly, giving Dean and himself the time to get used to it.

And once again this little moment of rest took a little too long for Dean's liking.

“Just fuck me, William, don't do this slow shit,” Dean gasped and squirmed under the other man's weight in desperate need.

But William didn't even think about it. Yes, this was still a game but played in a slightly different way that Dean probably hadn't realized yet. For him it certainly felt like every other time before. At least that's what William was thinking.

Slowly he moved yet a little deeper. Sweaty skin pressed on equally sweaty skin. And William nibbled playfully on Dean's earlobe while all four hands were still interlocked above their heads.

“You don't sound like you don't enjoy this slow shit, dear boy,” William groaned into Dean's ear.

Then he placed sloppy kisses along the younger man's neck until he bit softly into the skin on his shoulder. Every little push into him now corresponded with one soft bite. And it just came out of instinct that William somehow increased his pace.

It was like one of these ten minute rock songs – starting slowly, getting faster, adding a few instruments, finishing opera-like with a firework.

So, right at the very end Dean got what he wanted. But this very end that he wanted right from the beginning was just some tiny part from something he enjoyed entirely. He wouldn't admit it obviously, but the way William was fucking him, was still the best.

– – – –

Sitting behind that table was horrible. But his fans were here just for him and, of course, deep down he appreciated that. Many of them might have travelled a few hundred miles to come here. For Dean Ambrose travelling was normal. But for them it had been most likely their longest trip ever in their still very young age. So, Dean tried not to be an ass at least to the majority of guys and gals strolling by his table.

“ _How ya doin'?”_

_Painting his initials right next to a goofy face of himself._

_Pulling out another goofy face for a photograph._

“ _See ya.”_

And that went on for two full hours.

Dean still tried to see the positives from this. It was great for studying people. Maybe he could use something – the way some guy moved or how he talked, some special handshake – for his own show, for his portraying of his own character on stage – the canvas inside the squared circle.

At least that was something. But otherwise it was horrible. Sitting on a chair for fucking full two hours just was a pain in the ass. And speaking from his ass, every time he moved about in his chair, there was a memory flash of playing the old game with William Regal this morning. It felt so familiar but oh so different at the same time.

And every time he was thinking about the older man, he was groping for his cell phone. He had already written one simple message, asking William if he'd enjoy the show. Before he actually sent this message, he had thought for a while for some cheeky remark. But for some strange reason he wasn't able to come up with something witty.

He had felt the vibration inside of his jeans shortly after but was only able to read William's reply right before his signing session at Axxess was over.

“ _I'm rather glad that I got to sit in the back. The Bushwackers just made some old Hall of Famers doing their trademark walk. Hilarious!”_

Dean grinned to himself, and the last two girls probably got a rather good photo with him.

Then he wrote back, _“Always loved the walk! Would have probs done it without being asked. I'm done here, btw. Waiting for you in the car.”_

– – – –

On their way from San Jose back to San Francisco, William had parked the car at the Half Moon Bay beach for a little walk along the Atlantic. They had been all alone. They had talked about Axxess and the Hall of Fame ceremony. And at some point they started holding hands like it was something completely natural.

When they went back to their car, both men were lulled into a rather pleasant silence. Until Dean broke it.

“Ya know, I'm really sorry about what happened on that beach. I didn't want to force you into something that must have been kinda humiliating for ya. I just didn't know what I was doing,” he said.

But William pulled him close, so they stopped their walk back for a moment.

“I enjoyed it, Dean. There is no need for you to apologize,” he replied and kissed the younger man like he somehow needed to seal what he just said.

It seemed like this was the start of something really good between these two. And both of them wanted to believe it.

 

* * * *


	7. Ladders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean Ambrose and William Regal have their very own WrestleMania moment, ladders for once aren't to Dean Ambrose's taste and William Regal is hurt in the process.

“Alright, guys, ready when you are. Just have a regular conversation about that ladder match, kinda, you know, villain style or something. Just some random stuff. You know whatta mean, right?”

William Regal and Dean Ambrose indeed pretty much knew what this snob of a director wanted from them. Both men had gotten calls early this morning about some changes for the _WrestleMania_ backstage filming. Not that changes were somewhat surprising. It would have been surprising if there wouldn't have been any changes at all. But the timing of the calls had been quite irritating for both of them. The first one arrived on Dean's cell phone at about seven o'clock. He'd just found a real comfortable position on William's chest to doze into the new day when this stupid phone call sound woke him up. William had been already awake for quite some time back then and was rather amused by the grumpiness of the young man after he'd ended the call.

“ _They want us doing some chat or something. At the arena at half past one. And they are calling me now! I mean, what the fuck? Just wait until like nine, man! Dammit”,_ Dean had mumbled but emphasising the strong vocabulary. And William had just smiled and shut him up with a kiss. That grew into something that could have lead to lazy morning sex. But all of a sudden William got his phone call to receive basically the same information.

“ _Well, they couldn't have known that I know already”,_ William had sighed after he had ended the call. Dean had been pissed all over again about the interruption and had claimed that he needed a shower. And before William had been able to at least try to convince him otherwise, he was left alone in his hotel bed.

And he just couldn't think of anything he apparently did wrong to get such a reaction by Dean. Sometimes the young man really was a strange fellow. He had been calmed down when he had made his way back from the shower. But he went straight for his clothes, so William knew that he couldn't expect a few more minutes of slowly relaxing together into the day.

And both men had been busy with other stuff until now. William had been met up with a few guys from NXT to discuss a few things for future shows. And Dean had a bit other filming to do in the arena. Both men had just met again at half past twelve for their specific segment to be filmed. And most likely Dean arriving to this meeting without a shirt on was his way to apologize to William without having to express an actual apology.

William tried to stay calm. He tried not to let show that he enjoyed the sight a little too much to be banned on camera. But when the overenthusiastic director shouted out, “Action!”, and it now was on William and Dean to say something about ladders, William still tried to detract from Dean's upper body.

“I'm just like sitting there, staring on the ceiling and just thinking about jabbing people with ladders and...” Dean started with a picture of himself in his mind, trying to tell something he still hadn't any idea about.

“I was in that ladder match when... when...”, William tried to interrupt because he could sense that Dean was on a road to nowhere but the younger man just went on.

“... crossface, chicken, ladder...”, he listed a few steps that would eventually lead to his opponent ending up in pain. But that was all he was able to come up with right now, so William saw his chance to continue his little story.

“Yeah, actually, that was one of my favourite things that I've – as far as inflicting pain on somebody – on Paul London once, and I put him in a chickenwing and then suplexed him on top of a ladder...”, William told the younger man, still slightly muddled about Dean's shades he was still wearing.

Dean mumbled, “Yeah, yeah...” to William's story and the older man was simply unable to guess his mood he might have been in right now. Unable to read in his eyes. So William went for a bit of sadistic humour to get something back from the younger man.

“And just the... just the feeling his body growing completely limp...” William said and laughed at Dean, now remembering just too well about this specific ladder match he had competed in. A physical match when he'd been in his prime – whatever that meant in his case. But thinking about this right now, he missed competing, he missed the physicality, he missed the hate from the audience. And all of a sudden this thinking process from yesterday made it back into his mind. And Dean's appearance somehow made sense in a quite different way now. No shirt so he could attract some young people all around the arena; shades so he didn't have to look at William all the time.

And William just thought that sadistic humour could hide his inner turmoil. Somehow the director liked that. He called to stop the current scene and told both Dean and William that they should go on with this subject, just with a bit more variation, not too much depth but something similar sadistic and they should show their excitement for it.

“I like to crunch...” Dean continued for some reason after the director had called for action again. It sounded like a really simple statement, like he'd just said he liked the warmth of the dawning sun.

And William instantly liked the direction. “The crunching, yeah...” he said, still thinking about past matches and that he very likely wouldn't have another match in his career. Once again a too depressing thought. So he laughed to shake this off and listened to Dean continuing his own thought.

“... of like suplex on a ladder, you feel like...” Dean was trying to find another word for it to mix in some variety like the director obviously liked. He hit his right fist into his left hand to make it clear what exactly he meant with “crunch”. But he couldn't come up with another word. Crunch was just too perfect to describe this move. So, Dean just said, “... crunch!” again to use it as an exclamation mark this time.

“Crunch, yeah,” William replied, just encouraging Dean to continue. And somehow the young man now was in his element.

“It's not the big high thing that the people like,” Dean said and enthusiastically demonstrated how to climb a ladder. “I like the crunch and the...” he then continued, hits his fist in hand once again and made a sound to illustrate the badass way he likes to crunch some opponents. “... and... you know?” he then finished. At least that's what William thought, so he could give his own opinions on the crunching thing.

“The thing is...” William started.

But Dean mumbled, “That's so bad,” still somehow enjoying this picture in his own mind about him crunching some people.

“You wanna get... you wanna get use all that steel...” William tried to continue through the younger man mumbling and moving and staring through glasses with his eyes William was unable to see. He wanted to add some eloquent thoughts, a bit of slightly deep philosophy of pain but then was interrupted by Dean once again.

“It's so cruel for me – I love it so much,” Dean said, rubbing his hands against each other and looking really proud of himself.

“Yeah, because that's what it is, right?” William somehow gave up his effort to make this a real conversation. But he still wanted to give this a fitting punchline. Usually William needed far longer for this than just two minutes or so. But this wasn't meant to be a twenty-minute interview, so he went for, “'Cause you know there's no way for them to go. It's just crunch.”

And that was it. Shortly after the director blasted out loud “Cut!” and everyone in the background relaxed. The director quickly told Dean and William that they were done. Narrow schedule and all he then instructed his three assistants to grab all their stuff. And one moment later Dean watched this strange entourage go and slightly felt for the cable guy who seemed just a bit too small for this job.

But Dean wasn't able to think any longer about this guy because all of a sudden he felt grabbed from behind and pushed into a darker corner. Then he found himself back against the wall, William standing right in front of him, his right arm fixing him there right under his chin. And with his right hand William took off Dean's sunglasses.

“That's much better,” William told the younger man after he'd noticed that he had been surprised enough to make any sudden movements. The surprise reflected in his eyes. Apparently he had no idea why William acted in such a way. But somehow the older man wasn't much for games right now, so he continued to clear up Dean's mind.

“So, was there any need to hide yourself from me? You know that it's pretty much uncomfortable for me to talk to sunglasses instead of you. Not to mention that it's pretty much rude and uncivilized from you not to take them down during that... chit-chat... or whatever that has been,” William said. And just to add some logic to it, he finished his little rant with, “You know there is no sun over here. You don't need this thing covering your eyes anyway.”

“Well, I look cool with these shades on, so I needed them. Plus, no-one has noticed that I'd been looking at your erection the whole time,” Dean said and only added a smirk when William loosened his grip to the younger man to have a look down himself.

“I don't have an erection, boy!” William protested when he caught back Dean's eyes with his own.

“Yes, you have, _old man_. Didn't expect this from ya, I mean, in your age...” Dean replied now with an even bigger smirk in his face that left William puzzled.

“So you want to play again, don't you?” he asked when he found back his voice. Clearly not in the mood to play. Actually he had no idea what mood he was in at the moment. He simply found this situation quite strange to begin with.

But somehow Dean finally noticed that William was hurt for real. The older man clearly had no ambition to win just another game. Or hadn't he? Suddenly Dean had to think back to their latest days. The messaging game while he was in the desert. Or wasn't it a game? The phoning game, William winding him up with this monkey. Or was this some kind of allegory because William was just unable to say directly what he wanted? And then the sex. They hadn't fucked. That had been something else. And maybe this hadn't been a game as well?

Was it possible that both of them felt the same but both of them just weren't able to talk about it? It's definitely easier to call this a game than being serious. And Dean definitely wasn't the guy who all of a sudden would just start being serious about whatever it was they shared. He moved closer to the older man, smiling.

“There's nothing wrong with a well played game, _old man_ ,” he finally whispered. His hands moving down to William's belt, ready to open it. But while he kept eye contact, Dean felt his own movement stopped by the other man's hands.

“Not here, Dean, not now. Unless you really want to embarrass the two of us being caught in the act. Even you should know that this isn't the right place for something you have in mind here,” William said in his soft voice, his thumbs slightly stroking the skin of Dean's hands. But he didn't really know why he was doing that. And Dean had even less of an idea.

The younger man stepped back from the other man, just as much to have a better view on all of his facial and body expressions.

“So you don't want to make up for a wasted morning?” Dean finally asked and sounded legitimately disappointed.

And William just couldn't believe what he just had to listen to. He shook his head and let out a slight chuckle.

“You really want to make me responsible for what happened this morning? Or rather what _not_ happened this morning?” the older man asked. “Listen, Dean, I don't want to argue with you about that. You've got an important match tonight. Get that IC belt and tonight we've got plenty of time to talk, alright, _dear boy_?” he finally smiled at the young man and hoped for a similar reaction.

For days already William felt that some serious talk between them was immanent. But this backstage area in the  _WrestleMania_ arena of San Francisco really wasn't the right place or time. Dean needed to have a fresh mind, not filled up with too many thoughts. William wanted for Dean to have his  _WrestleMania_ moment and this was only possible if the young man was completely focused on this ladder match.

But Dean didn't understand. He already thought that he was focused enough. Truth was that he only needed to be focused the very moment the first bell rang. What he needed now was just a little distraction from his thoughts about the match. And the only thing he wanted to see was that William didn't want to give it to him.

Somehow William still had his shades in hand. So Dean finally reached for it to cover his eyes again. He shot the older man a look that William wasn't able to notice and mumbled a,  _“see ya then”_ , and off he was. William wasn't even able to ask if they should at least have lunch together.

– – – –

“I guess I messed up again, Robby”, William said to his plate between two bites of delicious tuna salad. Apart from a rather short call to ask Robby if he would enjoy lunch with him and an even shorter greeting when they had met in a little restaurant outside of the arena, William had been silently thoughtful the whole time.

“What happened?” his friend asked. “Have you finally spoken with him?”

“Not quite. I mean, I wanted to but it wasn't the right time. I didn't want to speak with him before his match,” William said, still telling this the dead tuna salad in front of him than to his friend.

“But there will be always a next match, William,” Robby said. He had already finished his gnocchi and just ordered an espresso for himself. “And what do you mean with, _not quite_?”

“Well, I have spoken with him but _not quite_ about this subject. Like I said, I just didn't want to bother him with something like that before his important match. And anyway, I think he's already moving forward,” William said and only the sad expression upon his face stopped Robby from letting out a light chuckle.

“It's William-talks-in-riddles-day today, isn't it, old boy?” Robby insinuated instead, smiling when the younger man finally had the decency to look at him.

“It wasn't meant to be a riddle. I just... I mean... I can sense that he's just fed up or bored or something like that. I mean, just today he walked off twice and left me there without any greeting or word when we might meet up again. Just doesn't seem to me that he cares much about me. So, why should I bother either?” William tried to unravel the riddle for his friend but it seemed that he didn't understand his own thoughts.

And Robby was just shaking his head, then touching the other man's hand to show him some sympathy.

“Oh, dear, William. You're really lost, aren't you? What has the boy done to you? Alright, you know what? I command you to talk with him right after his match, okay?” Robby said now back to full seriousness.

“But maybe he'll have won this belt by then and won't have time for me anyway,” William replied in a very strange attempt to make Robby take back his command.

“Alright, William, I'm telling you something – as a friend. You're completely crazy. And you know it. I've seen you together for a couple of times now and I'm telling you that he's only waiting for you to ask him. You know him. He won't take this step. You need to take it first. And he will happily follow. Believe me. He wants you. He ain't going nowhere... well, unless you're waiting too long. So, just talk to him tonight and everything will be fine,” Robby said and it sounded definitive enough for William to know that his friend won't peg away.

So he just nodded now and finished his tuna salad. After all, thinking about something for too long makes this something more terrible than it actually is in the end. Robby certainly was right. Dean perhaps only waited for him to make this first step.

– – – –

William was close to despair. He could swear that he didn't go this hallway for the very first time now. He had already asked a few people and all of them had pointed in different directions. But somehow the last guy had been right. Because right behind the next corner he was able to look into the room that was used as a treatment room. The door was opened. And William was able to see Dean sitting on a treatment table while the doctor was standing behind him and a cameraman right in front of him.

Still a bit breathless William waited patiently outside the room. They filmed him, so it couldn't be that worse. Not that worse as it looked on the TV screen when Dean had crashed head first on that ladder. And from the few pictures he had seen from him after the fall, William knew that the young man was legitimately injured.

He was deeply relieved that Dean seemed to be doing okay in physical terms. But there was still that loss. Dean Ambrose didn't get the Intercontinental Championship title. He wasn't able to show him this belt, William had also worn with pride some years ago. He didn't have his  _WrestleMania_ moment – he just lost again in an important match. Right now he probably felt like he was destined to be a loser all his life. Like it had been written all over the streets of Cincinnati from the day he was born.

And William hated the thought that Dean could think this way right now.

The cameraman left first. And then also the doctor left the room. That was the moment when William entered and found the young man still sitting on that treatment table.

William got himself a chair and sat right in front of Dean. For a second he considered taking his hands in his but then he didn't go for it. Dean would have shook them off very likely.

“You will get another chance, Dean,” William finally tried to lighten the boy's mood. “There will be a time, when you will be rewarded for everything you put yourself into. I know that you can do that. And I know that you will be on top of that mountain someday.”

All the time he was talking to him, William tried to get eye contact with Dean. But the young man was only staring on his own hands that both rested between his legs on the table.

“I know it's frustrating for you right now,” William tried again to get some words out of Dean, so he would know about the state he was in. “I can help you if you want to. I can speak to a few people with influence and get you another title match. What do you think, Dean? I know you're frustrated right now but...”

William wasn't able to speak any further because he finally got eye contact with Dean. But these eyes were full of anger and disillusion.

“Twelve staples!” the young man blasted out. “Twelve staples are my price for everything I put in tonight. Quite fitting for a loser like me, right? And ya telling me that ya want to help me! Don't make me laugh, Regal. You could've helped me already. All the times I was beaten up by several guys and ya were waiting backstage and did nothing. But ya know what? I'm better off without ya. All these last days were just a waste of time. I could have trained harder, be more focussed. But instead I wasted my time with talking to ya.”

Dean finally got up from the table. And right now the only emotion William saw in his eyes was anger about him.

“Just leave me alone from now on. And don't try to help me. God, ya can't even help yourself. How would ya been able to help me anyway?” Dean added and every single word was like a stab right into William's heart.

It took him a couple of minutes to gather himself back. And long after Dean had left the room, William got up from his chair to take the long way back to his hotel room.

 

* * * *


	8. Caveman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein William Regal remembers about his last match and Dean Ambrose tries to play a saxophone.

William had been on the brink of getting a decent amount of sleep for the last couple of days. But this night had been as horrible as most nights before the last ones. All these words of anger towards him circled around his mind on and on and on without pause. There was only Dean Ambrose in his mind and his heart hurt from him and his behaviour towards him yesterday.

He was just unable to think of any reason why he was told all those cruel words by him. Actually Dean has mentioned a reason but this one was just ridiculous. He had blamed him for his loss, for his injury and didn't want to see him again.

William wasn't unable to sleep because he put thought after thought after thought. And then he threw all these thoughts back into a figurative hat to put them all back together differently.

He certainly always knew that there would be this one moment when Dean would have enough of him. He always knew that he would finally cross this one river without the older man. But the way it actually happened now, was still like a stab in the back.

William's whole equilibrium had been gone the moment he'd arrived back at his hotel room. He'd physically broken down on the bed, didn't even take off his clothes. Tears automatically left his eyes. And crying helped for a while. But the moment these thoughts made it back into his mind, all these tears made it back as well.

It hadn't been a nice cut and he should have been angry with the younger man, but the only thing William was able to feel right now was grief because of the loss.

– – – –

It was the day of the _RAW_ after _WrestleMania_ and William Regal thought that he wasn't really needed in the arena this evening. He wasn't really needed anyway. Good for spotting talent to put new guys on television while the old villain himself disappeared more and more in the swamp of oblivion that is ruled by its god Nemesis. That's his real home these days, William thought, not the spotlight of a post- _WrestleMania RAW_.

So initially he had this idea to forget about some of these thoughts surrounding his uselessness these days and this guy called Dean Ambrose with a good session of mindless training at a gym in the suburbs of San Francisco. He went to this studio he had heard Cesaro talking about in the morning and did some cardio while listening to good old classic rock music.

But after two hours he went for some Caveman Coffee in said gym and all his thoughts made it straight back into his mind. He didn't blame the coffee at all. But this mindless training before. Because his brain had been like a sponge basically at this stage and everything had been just worse.

For what it was worth it, William bought a small pack of White Gold by Caveman Coffee at the gym before he headed back to his hotel room. Watched a few blurry YouTube videos from old wrestling matches including the old classic of Marty Jones against Terry Rudge. Ignored a call by Robby. And then thought about his two matches against Dean Ambrose in FCW.

The young man should have taken him out for good at the time, he thought while staring out the window. Instead he thought he still had it and should prove something against Kassius Ohno and Cesaro. How ironic that it had been Cesaro whom he had his very last match against. The guy was the devil, sounded him out while on commentary during a match that included Dean Ambrose. Let William ramble on how he thought Dean would be the end of him when it was finally Cesaro himself.

Maybe that's the way of Dean ending him for good. He can't have a match against William inside the squared circle any more. So he goes for a match outside of it – killing him emotionally. Burning this bridge and leaving William behind, so he can finally have this clean victory.

And William thought that, yes, he indeed won this last battle.

_If_ .

_If_ that had been what Dean Ambrose had in mind for him. What he wanted. This little  _if_ happened to still circling around his mind. And this little  _if_ prevented William from not caring any more.

Without this little  _if_ in mind he wouldn't have called Triple H to ask him for another title match for Dean. Triple H wasn't quite pleased with that request given the history he had with the young man. Plus, William had just told him that he was unable to be present in San Jose for  _RAW_ . William had just told Triple H that he wasn't feeling well; he might have eaten something he was allergic to without knowing, so he would to go to bed early.

William never had been great with lies but he was excused. But Triple H also said that he couldn't promise anything for Ambrose. Wanted to know why he would request something like this for the guy. And William simply relied that Triple H would still owe him something. So Triple H finally at least promised that he would try his best. And William was satisfied with that.

– – – –

He wasn't sure if he really wanted to watch _RAW_ on TV until the time was there. And in the end curiosity won over anger and being hurt. He had already missed a few segments but tuned in right when John Cena kind of initiated these U.S. Open for his newly won title belt. And right away Dean Ambrose was the first one who answered this challenge.

William had been lying on his bed before, together with a few pieces of bell pepper and a hot mint tea. But when Dean's music hit, William sat up to have a better view. He still felt strange and angry and hurt when he saw the young man. But he also chose to be happy with him for just another opportunity.

It needed to happen that the young man had to move forward, not staying in the past with him. So if this was the time, then be it. It was still better to have a clean cut than a painful and slow death. So in the end it would be all good. Time always heals every wound.

And with match time moving forward, William really enjoyed watching it. Dean even put Cena into his own hold, the STF, and for the first time since yesterday evening William smiled. The young man always had a thing for putting his opponents into their own holds or hitting their signature moves on them – just for the fun of it and maybe also to show the world that he was able to perform them better than the guy who invented them or made them popular.

Dean was such a waste as a babyface, William thought and smiled again.

In the end it wasn't to be – again. Dean again lost an important match and an opportunity to get back the title he once held for almost a year. William turned off the TV the moment the referee counted to three to finish the match and declare Cena as the winner and retainer of his title. The match had been good and Dean had been able to show his value. But what was it worth but just more disappointment for the man; just another opportunity thrown out the window.

And William had been at fault for putting hope in front of him – once again. Just so he had to take this even bigger disappointment – again.

He could try doing something good for the young man but in the end it always turned out to be worse than before. It really looked like William had jinxed him when saying that he'd be everyone's perfect opponent for the next ten years. He had told this some journalist back in 2013. So only two years were done; still eight years to go. It looked like a curse right now from the man who always considered himself not just a mentor for him but also his friend... lover? Partner?

It's always the closest friends who betray you, who stab you in the back. And who knows how Earth and Heaven and all things between really work?

– – – –

When William noticed that he was starting to think about religion and cursing people, he knew it was time for a lot of fresh oxygen. He already had something in mind, so he was able to prepare the appropriate things. For some reason he had brought a vacuum bottle with him. So he now filled it with some freshly brewed Caveman coffee from his pack. It certainly wouldn't be as good as the one at the gym this morning. But it would be enough to warm his hands and body.

Half an hour later William was on his way in his car out of San Francisco southwards. He still felt like an old fool trying to flee from reality. But the good music from some independent music channel on the radio helped him drifting away from these heavy thoughts that troubled him recently.

But it also helped questioning himself if the Half Moon Bay really was the best place for him to be right now. Because that was his destination. It was a rather nice place to be. But it was also the place where he had been happy together with Dean just two days ago.

And now everything was different.

While the beach was all the same.

It actually looked like everything else was just the same while only William was different. And it felt even worse when he was finally standing on the beach, listening to the water of the Atlantic, looking up at all the millions and millions of stars.

His vacuum bottle helped warming his hands. But the coffee didn't warm his body. William Regal still only was an old, lonely, broken man on a lonely beach.

At least he thought he was alone until he heard some noise that sounded like someone wasted his breath on a quite old musical instrument.

At first William didn't pay it much attention. But the noise grew louder and that person who abused this poor instrument clearly moved along the beach towards the direction where William still tried to come back to his senses. So finally the grieving man turned into the direction of the noise and listened. It seemed like some kind of melody but he couldn't figure what it was. But the instrument more and more sounded like a saxophone. And after a few moments William recognized a shadow that stood out from its dark surrounding area. And it slowly grew in substance while the noise went louder and rasping.

And then William believed he recognized some sequences from the old Sinatra classic _“Fly Me To The Moon”_.

He looked a little more closely. And all of a sudden this shadow looked exactly like Dean Ambrose. There was a jacket that could be a leather jacket. And there was the silhouette of unruly, messy hair. He was still a shadow but more and more little pieces indicated that it was indeed the young man.

Of all people he could possibly meet on this secluded part of the beach, Dean Ambrose could be the least possible man William wanted to see right now.

But the young man hadn't noticed him so far. He was still trying to play this saxophone – that looked quite small for being a real adult saxophone – was quite focused on it and walked slowly. The moon in Waxing Gibbous state was hanging a good distance above the horizon that was the open sea. And the man with the sax was also focused on this sole bright spot out here.

And William didn't really know what to do. He still argued with himself if he should run away, hide himself in the dark, confront the young man or just let him pass and hope it wasn't Dean.

Then all of a sudden the croaking stopped – together with the man who was now only a few feet away from William. And of course it was Dean. Fortuity sometimes really was a bitch and did it on purpose.

“What... are you...?” both men started at the same time after a first and just a little too long moment of silence.

Dean fumbled around with his saxophone, got his hands something to do. But William didn't have such luck. He didn't have something to make his hands appear busy. He usually didn't care because he never had a problem with putting his hands somewhere. But right now a very unfamiliar feeling had taken him hostage – he was nervous and all of yesterday's anger and pain made it back into his mind. So, quite naturally, he was the first who got back his voice.

“Of all places you could have gone to, you had to come here, boy?” he said and didn't mind the harsh tone in his voice, despite that being rather unusual for him since most of the time he spoke in a soft voice that was hardly heard by his company. Forcing people to be quiet so they actually got what he was saying. It also spared his voice.

“I could ask you the same, old man,” was Dean's reply and William couldn't believe it. The stupid brash boy couldn't even look him in the eye. And he really had the nerves to throw his own statement back at him.

William sighed deeply. Then waited for a few moments. Maybe the boy had something else to say. But when there was nothing else, he just turned and went away. The faster he'd be back at his car to get back to San Francisco the better.

“Why _did_ you come here?” asked in his back eventually made him stop. Sighed again. Not that deep this time – and turned around. The boy must have followed him because he was standing right in front of him again. But eyes still tried to burn a hole into his saxophone.

“I had a good time here a few days ago. And I tried to recall the mood I was in,” William finally said and waited again for a reaction.

When it came he was surprised to hear, “I'm sorry.”

It was just a mumbled statement but William was sure that he listened right.

“What are you sorry about, Dean?” William asked and was surprised again when the young man finally changed attention from the saxophone to the other man's eyes.

“You know it,” Dean started but tried to swallow back these words the moment they slipped from him. “I mean, what I said yesterday. I was hurt. I had lost just another match – at WrestleMania. You always hurt most the one you love the most, right?”

The young man made a pause here, so William didn't know if this was a question that demanded an answer.

“So you hurt me because you loved me?” William assumed.

“No. I mean... I don't know,” Dean tried to come around with his infamous speeches about actual feelings. “It's like... you are hurt the most when you actually care, ya know? I mean, I just realized that you'd still help me, even if I acted like an ass to ya. This championship match today... I mean, don't tell me ya hadn't anything to do with it.”

“I did, yes,” William admitted but he felt Dean really already knew.

“Well, it... looked like I wasn't ready – again,” Dean further tried to play down his own disappointment in this whole scenario. “But that wasn't the reason why I lost. I... well, um, I was thinking about ya, asking myself why ya'd do this. I was kinda distracted by thinking, ya know? And after I lost I only came up with one reason. I guess you did it because you still have your history with Hunter and because all these old guys like Hogan and Rock and Austin get all the attention at Mania but the only guy who really works doesn't. So, like you probs blackmailed Hunter in this way for your own amusement, right?”

“Wrong,” William instantly replied. “The straight path isn't always the wrong path. My reason was very simple, Dean... I just love you. And I did what I did because of this, despite your harsh words to me.”

“You _still_ love me? Despite me being an ass?” Dean asked like he really couldn't believe it.

“Not despite. Because. I admit I was hurt and I still am. But you know that I'll always help you. And that's because I see something in you most people don't. I enjoy the competition.” William gestured with his left hand between himself and the young man, then continued, “this little game between us. It's fun and it keeps me alive, to be quite honest with you.”

“Alright, alright. And what was that two days ago with all this shit from you like _“you should get yourself someone your age”_ and stuff? I don't need ya for telling me who I should be with, alright?” Dean said but made it clear with moving a bit closer to William what his real intentions were.

“Does that mean you want to be with me? Do you really want a relationship with me, _dear boy_?” William asked and actually laughed when he saw the expression in dean's face, the one someone makes when biting into a lemon.

“Why do we have to call it relationship? Why calling it dating or something like that? We're just... like... an item now... kinda,” Dean tried to make it half acceptable for himself.

“An item, huh?” William smiled at the young man and put his hands on the boy's hips while he moved forward to whisper into his left ear, “Let's seal this.”

And with that he kissed his way from the ear over the jawline to the mouth for a long and intense kiss.

“Where is your car?” was the first question William asked after they'd parted again.

“Somewhere this way...” Dean turned into the direction where he'd came from and made a few vague hand gestures. “But it's just a rental car. Someone from the company can pick it up, I guess.”

“That's what I wanted to know,” William smiled, put one arm around Dean's shoulder and started to make his way back to his own car.

“Now, tell me, what about this saxophone? Where did you get it from?” William wanted to know and shot Dean a strange smile.

“Well, someone put it onto my pile of stuff in the locker room – in Jose. I asked around but no-one knew anything. No-one apparently knew who put it there. So I just took it and tried to clear my mind from, ya know, disappointment and heartache,” Dean said and smirked back to the older man.

“Hm, looks very much like Humphrey to me,” William said, now clearly in some good mood.

But Dean couldn't believe what he just heard and stopped, shaking William's arm from his shoulder.

“Humphrey? You must be joking! This monkey doesn't even exist. Now he's carrying a sax with him?” the young man asked, not in anger but visibly bewildered.

“Yeah, Humphrey is full of surprises. Come on, let's go now, dear boy. I don't like to stay here all night when we've got so much better to do in our hotel room,” William said, pulled Dean close again and continued walking towards – what it seemed – a bright future for the both of them.

 

**_finis._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was it, part 2 of "The Equilibrium Trilogy". I plan to write part 3 after SummerSlam. Until then, I appreciate any comment you'd like to leave for this part. Thanks in advance!


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